A Deadly Kind of Love
by Pigtail Goddess
Summary: Sango and Miroku have an unconventional relationship...considering the fact that he's not exactly human. SanMir oneshot with a bit of dark humor, but beware: there be fluff.


A/N+++Just a little M/S fic fished out from the deep vaults of my brain. Maybe a little cliché…definitely a little fluff.

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She could feel him there.

Sango sat up in her armchair, placing her bookmark in her library-rented copy of _Frankenstein_ and setting it on the table, trying to keep her breathing under control. She didn't know how she could tell—the sudden whisper of cold air, the slight flicker of the lights—but she knew he was there…somewhere…

"_Sango…_" Her name breathed across his lips, sending the usual chills down her spine. She felt the light touch of fingertips on her neck, leading up slowly to the line of her jaw, her cheek, and finally her lips. Her eyelids drifted shut, letting the feeling of his touch overwhelm her. "_Sango…_"

In a sudden burst of realization she sprang up out of her chair, knocking his hands away. "You!"

The man that stood before her bore a sheepish grin. "Hi, Sango! Long time no see, right?"

"I can't believe this!" He flinched at her tone. "I can't believe you just came waltzing into my apartment, as if that's not _illegal_ or anything."

"Like that matters to _me_," he scoffed, but quickly shut up when she shot him a glare.

"Besides, what's with the creepy ghost noises and the…and the…" She blushed at the thought, "the whole molestation thing you had going on there?"

The sheepish grin curved into something more wolfish. "Sango, don't deny it—you liked it." She groaned, her face turning a darker red.

"That's not the point, Miroku! You can't just barge into my house and pretend like everything's fine when…when…when I haven't seen you for a year!"

His face softened, and he took a step closer. "I'm sorry, love. Work has been a bit hectic."

She ignored the love comment. "Yeah, I did hear about that epidemic raging across South America. Tough, huh?"

He groaned, leaning against her fireplace. "You have _no_ idea. The plague just _had_ to strike during a record heat wave. And Spanish food gives me indigestion, so I couldn't even eat right." He brought a hand up to massage his neck. "Sometimes, I really, really hate being the grim reaper."

"It doesn't seem to have many perks," Sango offered helpfully. She blinked once, then gasped. "You tricked me!"

He was the picture of innocence; he always was. "What could you possibly mean?"

"I was mad at you—really mad—and then you did that…that _thing_ that you always do!" At his blank face she moaned, balling her hands up into fists. "You pulled the feel-sorry-for-me-act! You pulled that really sexy…really adorable…really innocent face that always makes me forget what I'm mad at!"

He couldn't hide his cocky smile. "Really sexy, eh?'

She blushed again; she was always blushing when she was with him. "Be quiet! And…and you!" Her face turned white with the sudden realization. "You killed off all of my dates!"

His face was equally white. "Oh dear…"

"You did!" She brought her hands to her mouth, unable to hide her shock. "I had a blind date with that guy Kagome set me up with, and I call him to schedule a follow up date and I find out he's been trampled by runaway moose!"

"Rather creative, if I do say so myself."

"And then there was that hot photographer who told me I looked like a model—two dates later and I find out he choked on a roast beef sandwich!"

"But he was such a jerk!" Miroku offered in defense. "You didn't know this, but he had three other girls on the side."

"I don't care! Do you not want me to have a love life? You want me to be alone for the rest of my life, is that it? You don't want me to be happy?" She felt the tears welling up and spill over. "Because obviously _you_ don't want to be with me. You made that perfectly clear."

Now he looked confused and angry, and took a step forward. "When did I ever-"

"Oh, come on Miroku—I wasn't born yesterday. You spend two years pursuing me, following me, popping up whenever I didn't need you most, and I finally…we finally…" she couldn't finish. "We had that night, and I…I thought that was it. I thought it was perfect, and wonderful, and you seemed to enjoy it, so can you tell me why…why…"

His dark blue eyes were soft and hypnotizing—not like death at all. "Sango…"

"Why I woke up and you weren't there?" The silence that followed echoed off of the walls and hit Sango straight in the heart. "Then I don't see you for a year, so…so what am I supposed to think, Miroku?"

He took another step closer, and was close enough to touch her now. He lifted a hand and brought it to her cheek. "Sango, I never meant to hurt you."

She looked away. "Well, you did." He brought her face back to him with the gentle push of his fingers, but her eyes were still guarded.

"Sango, when I met you…" He let his hand fall, only to lift both of them and grip her shoulder. "You were like a breath of fresh air. I'm from the beginning of time—I've lived for millenniums, seen centuries come and go—but I've never truly experienced the world. Sango, you—that day when I saved you from the subway train, do you remember what happened?"

She frowned. "I remember you groping my ass and telling me that you were death and it wasn't my time to go. Everything else is just a blur."

He took a deep breath. "Well, I remember everything. Every exact detail. I know that your hair was up in a ponytail and you were wearing jeans and a green sweater Kagome knitted for you, and the number of the subway train was 703. I remember that you fell into the tracks because a man with a trench coat and attaché brief case bumped into you and caused you to trip over the untied shoelace on your left shoe. I remember that you dropped your messenger bag and a book fell out—Gone With the Wind, I believe."

Sango coughed. "Um. Wow."

He nodded. "This coming from someone who thinks decades are a blink in time. The day I met you stands out from anything I've ever experienced, Sango. I can't forget about you. I know I should, but…I can't. But I'm death. I'm the grim reaper. I have a job to do…a lot of jobs to do. That morning, when I left-"

"You thought it was a mistake." She avoided his eyes. "You regretted it."

"Sango, don't put words in my mouth. Everything that happened that night I had wanted to happen from the first time I saw you." She refused to let herself blush, and failed as she felt her cheeks warm. "But I—I chickened out."

Sango's eyes narrowed. "_Chickened out?_"

He winced. "That was the wrong way to say it. I got scared. I froze up, and everything came at me at once. I couldn't handle it. I had to leave, to just think things over, before I saw you again…does this make sense?"

Sango shook her head. "No…but I'll wait."

He tried again. "Sango, I wanted to be with you so much it scared me, because I've never wanted something like that before…and I'm not supposed to. I'm death. I take a human form, but I'm not human, Sango—I'm not like you. Does that make more sense?"

She thought for a moment. "A little. Go on."

He nodded. "And then…someday, Sango, I'm going to kill people you love—and I don't know if its today, or tomorrow, or fifty years from now, but its there, and I can't stop it, and you can't stop it. Would you still want to be with me, knowing that? Would you even be able to look at me?"

The room was quiet. Sango had thought about this many times, and still hadn't been able to decide on an answer. Miroku continued.

"And you…someday I'll have to take your life too…" The pain in his voice hit Sango hard, causing a sharp sensation in her chest. "I don't know if I could do it…but I'll _have_ to do it, and then…"

"Okay, stop it!" She shouted, unable to take any more of his doubts. "Just stop it, Miroku! I don't want to hear it any more!" She felt a clenching in her chest that signaled tears, and turned away from him.

She could hear the regret and the sadness in his voice as he spoke. "Sango, I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to-"

"Didn't mean to what?" She hated to cry, especially in front of others. She felt weak and hateful. "To upset me? It's a little late for that, Miroku." She laughed grimly, in spite of the tears. "I get it; there are a million reasons why we shouldn't be together. You don't think I already knew that? I'm not stupid."

Miroku sighed, leaning back against her chair. "So what are you suggesting?"

She shrugged, her eyes dark and closed off. "Simple. If there are a million reasons why we can't be together, then why should we try?"

He didn't speak; it seemed like he was silent for an eternity. "That would make you happy?" He was quiet.

"No, but its not really about me anymore, is it?" After another eternity of silence she inhaled sharply, causing him to jump. "Just…keep thinking about it. I'll go get you some food." She left quickly, happy to get away from the tense atmosphere they had created.

Sango rummaged through her fridge, finally producing some rice and curry that she had made the other night. She meticulously scooped out the mixture, going slow as to waste time.

Miroku…why had he come back? To explain why he had left in the first place? To give her more reasons why they couldn't be together? To try and win back her love, like it had been that night? Sango winced as she stuck the bowl in the microwave, pressing in one minute. It still hurt to think about it…how confused she had been when he wasn't there, how disappointed she had felt…how that disappointment had turned to anger and pain as the months passed by…and how all of those feelings had finally faded into a numb, dull-aching denial as she forced herself to get over him. Now that he was here again the feelings were all rushing back; the bitter hatred, the sense of betrayal…the longing.

She wanted to be with him. She had trouble saying it out loud, but in her head and her heart she knew that she wanted him, and had for a long time.

But it wasn't that simple! He was the grim reaper, for goodness sake! How could anything be simple when you were in love with the god of death?

The microwave beeped, signaling it was done. Sango took it out, being careful as not to burn herself, as well as a cola from the fridge. She took a breath, building up strength, before pushing her way into the living room again.

He had been looking at her bookshelf again, but turned around at the sound of her entering. She set the food down on her coffee table and watched as he padded over, nodded his thanks, and began to eat. They ignored the question looming over their heads and simply sat in silence.

Miroku looked up, his dark eyes examining her. "You look thin, Sango. Would you like some?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I…already ate." Well, it was _kind_ of true; she had half of an old pudding bun for breakfast. His look was hard as he judged her.

"You're lying. Sit down." Sango sighed as she plopped down opposite of Miroku. He had a damned good intuition. "Open up." She opened her mouth, blushing a little as he fed her a bite of curry and rice. Truth be told, she hadn't been eating much lately; she just wasn't hungry.

Miroku laughed a little bit to himself, reaching out to catch her chin. "Don't move. You have a little sauce on your chin."

Sango scowled. "And whose fault is that, I wonder?" He laughed again, louder this time, causing her to smile. He cleaned her chin with one swift move of his thumb, but his fingers lingered a while longer, around her lips, causing her smile to fade and her eyes to drift towards his. They were still for a moment, simply staring at each other, his hand resting on her mouth.

And then it happened. Sango wasn't sure who moved first, but she knew that a second later his hands were cradling her face and her hands were on his arms to steady herself and the curry had tipped over and they were kissing.

Sango's head was spinning as they kissed, their lips moving with a certain need to be connected. She knew it was wrong, she knew they should be talking, she knew what had happened the last time they had kissed like this…but she didn't really care.

They broke off, her panting heavily, he not having to worry about that since he didn't exactly have to breathe anyway. Miroku took her hand, she looked away.

"Sango." He sounded so calm. How could he sound so calm? "I don't want to not be together."

She ignored his questionable grammer and concentrated on breathing, nodding slightly. "I know. I know."

His eyes were very steady as he searched her face. "What can I do to make this work?" He paused, thinking. "What can we do to make this okay again?"

He still hadn't let go of her hand, but she didn't say anything, enjoying how tightly his fingers were wrapped around her wrist, feeling her pulse, she knew. He had a fascination with her heartbeat. She had asked him about it once, and he had told her that his obsession with her heart derived from his lack of one. She hadn't mentioned it again; it was just one more reminder of what he really was.

"We need to talk," she said at last. She shook her head quickly, changing her mind. "No, I need to talk. I need to tell you how I feel…how I felt when you left."

He was taken back, that was certain, and nervous. "Okay…"

Sango took a moment, knowing he wouldn't want to hear what she had to say, and knowing she didn't want to say it. She closed her eyes and began.

"I hated you." She heard him stiffen slightly. "I was so disappointed, in you and myself. After I began to…you know, develop feelings for you…I was sure that the second I gave in you would disappear and I wouldn't see you again. You don't know how long it took me to convince myself that you loved me. That you would stay." She opened her eyes to examine his pained expression, growing more shameful by the second. "When I woke up, I was confused at first, but deep down…I already knew what had happened. The first thing I did, after searching the apartment, was to throw up in my bathroom. I spent the whole day in there, screaming, hating you, but hating myself more. I punched my mirror. Don't go in there, I didn't get it fixed yet." He looked down at her hand, noticing the small scars lacing her knuckles for the first time. She drew it away slowly.

"I'm only telling you this so you understand, if only a fragment, of how angry I was. And, like I said, it was mostly directed at myself. Towards you, I just felt…let down." She could tell this was upsetting him by the way he gripped the table. "I went through a lot of emotions. First it was the anger and the hatred. Then betrayal. Then I was depressed and lonely…I missed you, which sent me spiraling into hatred again. Finally…I don't know. I just got tired of it all. I decided that no matter what, I wouldn't wallow, and I wouldn't think about you. I would move on, even if it meant just pushing aside the pain and pretending it wasn't there, which is what I ended up doing." She paused, catching Miroku's eyes with intensity. "I understand, at least a little bit, why you left now, Miroku, but I don't think I'll ever be able to really forgive you. And I certainly don't trust you." He cringed. "I think you should know that, if we're going to try this again. It will be a very, very long time before I can trust you…at all." She hesitated, searching his face. "Do you understand? Is that okay with you?"

His face was heavy with all he had heard, but he offered up a half-hearted smile, mostly for her benefit. "I understand, Sango. And I can wait." She didn't know when it had happened, but somehow her hand was in his again, his fingers pressing against her blue-purple veins, feeling the blood pulsing through. It calmed her, and removed a little of the tension from the air.

"As for the…eh…death thing…" He acted so human; it was easy to forget sometimes. "I honestly don't know. It's not like I've dealt with this situation before…" This caused her to laugh, just the sheer absurdity of it all.

Miroku was grinning, although Sango doubted if he really got the joke. "You've never been in love with a grim reaper before?"

"I won't even grace that with a response."

"Sango, my dear, you are _unbelievably_ attractive when you are cross with me." She growled, causing him to hold up his hands, laughing harder. "Kidding, kidding. Well, not really." His mocking laughter made her scowl. After a moment it died down, and Miroku's face looked so open and raw Sango almost had to look away. "Well, if you're looking for honesty, I've never exactly been in love with…anyone before."

Sango's scowl faded slightly, and her voice was small. "Just me?"

His smile was so slight and yet so sure. "Just you." He let go of her hand and instead softly touched her cheek, his touch and his eyes gentle. "Only you."

She leaned forward a little and he obliged, kissing her so tenderly she blushed.

He broke it off after only a few moment, his face still inches away from hers. "So, you were saying? About the death thing?"

Sango thought for a moment, then smiled a little. "I guess we'll deal with it when the time comes."

They smiled stupidly at each other, both reveling in this newfound thought. Miroku leaned in to kiss her again and she twined her hand around the nape of his neck, curling her fingers in his hair. He moved, beginning to kiss her jaw and throat.

Sango shivered. "You're positive you don't own a scythe? I mean, surely you have one-" her voice faltered as he found her pulse, kissing it slowly. "Surely you have one somewhere, right?" Her voice was shaky.

"I'm sorry, Sango, I do not own a scythe." He was back at her face now, their foreheads touching but their lips apart.

"That's a shame. Scythes are incredibly sexy."

He raised an eyebrow in that suggestive way of his. "Why, Sango, I never knew you had _those_ kinds of preferences. Of course, I can always go out and purchase a scythe, if you think it will enhance the experience-"

"You _know_ that's not what I meant, you pervert," she snapped, blushing. "Why are you always thinking about sex?"

"In that way, my dear Sango, I am human."

"You're sick."

"And you love it." She groaned, her scowl beginning to return when he reached over and pulled her to him, earning a yelp of protest. He ignored her, waiting until she inevitably gave in. They wrapped their arms around each other until it was impossible to disentangle them.

Sango pressed her face into his shoulder, feeling a little shy. "You know this is a bad idea, right? "

"I like bad ideas," he retorted, his voice muffled against her hair. He was very still, and it took Sango only a few moments to realize why—he was waiting to see if he could feel it. Her heartbeat. She willed her heart to drum louder and harder in her chest, and could sense him relax as he felt it, pounding against him. He held her tighter.

Sango thought about the life they had ahead of them—if it would be any life at all. If it was, if they lasted long enough, it definitely wouldn't be a pleasant one. The uncertainty, the doubt, the questions that still lingered…the simple matter of who he was…

But then she smiled. Because she knew it didn't matter if he wasn't human, if he was something she hardly understood, if he didn't have heart.

Hers would beat strong enough for the both of them.

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I warned you. Fluff galore. Hope you liked it….reviews welcome, of course.


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